Free Peanuts: A Father-Daughter Day at Fenway
read more…: Free Peanuts: A Father-Daughter Day at FenwayI never thought my daughter would be interested in sharing the Red Sox experience with me.
Until she did.
I never thought my daughter would be interested in sharing the Red Sox experience with me.
Until she did.
In three months, on Nov. 5, American voters will make a decision that will have sweeping existential implications for this country, and the world as a whole, moving forward.
Then I saw one, right by the entrance that wasn’t a designated handicap spot. My heart leaped up. “Look at that,” I said to my wife, pointing to the parking spot. “There’s a Costanza.”
Last night, while watching Donald Trump accept the nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee, Wis., I’m fairly certain some of my youthful adventurousness caught up with me.
After the threat of storms passed by Delta Dental Stadium on Saturday—prompting a cautionary half-hour delay in the start time—it was an idyllic summer night to take in a baseball game.
As I watched President Joe Biden’s atrocious performance in the now-infamous June 27 debate with former-president Donald Trump, I was reminded of a time in the late ’90s when I was driving to visit a friend in Jersey City and got hopelessly lost in the city.
With the Supreme Court’s right wing ideological posse of six basically handing Donald Trump the keys to a shiny new dictatorship if—or should I say “when”—he puts King Lear to bed in November, this year’s Independence Day celebrations could prove to be our last as a democracy.
Early Saturday morning, I was awakened twice by nightmares about car crashes. These days I seldom have bad dreams that will wake me from a sleep. I found it strange but went back to bed while my wife—who is an early riser—went to the grocery store.
While there are certainly classes that, as a teacher, you’ll look back on fondly—as well as those classes that will continue to haunt your nightmares until your dying breath—one of the best things about my profession is that I still get to experience the exhilaration of the summer vacation every June.
So—at the risk of mansplaining—I’m going to put my MFA in fiction writing to good use and propose some more dramatic confrontations and resolutions to my wife’s story according to three popular genres.